Two of the Same
by Smexis
Summary: 148 years have past since Alexander (Al) Jones "died" at the hands of Alfred F Jones. Confederacy v Union. But for some reason, Alfred is now having nightmares of the day Al died. Questioning his "Hero" status due to the fact he stooped to the level of Confederacy Al. Unfortunately for him, Al is back. And things won't end as they did the first time.
1. Prologue

**Hey guys!**

**Um, When It's All Over shall be resumed once I get around to finding/re-writing the chapter... For now, I am introducing a new story called Two of the Same. It was written by my friend Elaina and I (she has an Alfred rp instagram hero_and_sidekick). Either way, I hope you like it! Reviews would be lovely. I also have a Spamano one shot on the way. :)**

**~Smexis**

* * *

_As always, Hetalia, it's characters, or it's plot is not mine [despite how awesome that would be._

* * *

_It was dark._

That's what the tanned American remembered about that day.

The sky was a dark shade of gray, and it only printed against a lighter shade of the same gray that was coloring the man's coat.

It was dark, and thunder could be occasionally heard rumbling in the distant air.

But it was simply dark, dark and gray, and aside of the grumbling thunder, dead silent.

And that day was destined to be the day, not that he was to die, but the day that he was to crumble and fall, weaken.

The day that his purpose for existence would be crushed under the acts of the other man. The counterpart.

The "Hero". Bah.

A threatening, dark red pair of irises meet an ambitious (and at the moment, stern) pair of blue.

Thunder clapped again, louder as it neared, and the world seemed to tremble.

But then as it regained silence, the blue-eyed man raised his gun.

Of course, he planned on living up on his title and his temporary mission to destroy his counterpart, but apparently the other man beat him to it.

But little did he know that one little bullet couldn't stop the being of the red-eyed man entirely, of course. Anybody knew that.

It wasn't that simple.

The blue-eyed American had his counterpart cornered. For a while he knew he would win. After the hardships that is. He remembered the terrible thing war had brought. A confliction of his people, of his states. The many people lying dead in coffins that would never greet their families again. That was all his counterpart's fault. All his fault. Alfred F Jones was the hero and this... counterpart Confederacy was clearly the villain in this. Villains had to be eliminated. It was for the greater good.

Alfred could remember when his side called for total war. How he knew his former people would have no resources and it was partly his fault. However, it could be justified that he wouldn't have to be using total war if Confederacy didn't exist. But he did.

The hero could vaguely remember how this mess started. It started with the chilling voice. The teasing coming from his own mind. Alfred could remember the eerie "_hey porkchop_" or jabs about his weight. Then he felt the confliction. The confusion in which no one knew about. The hero would not want to worry anyone. Then the tanned American, Al, had split from his brain. Just become a different person. He had stirred up conflict. He had tried to ask France and British dude for help. So Alfred could not let him win. Not now. He had to get rid of the voice, the threat, the fear.

"Any last words?" Alfred asked, a small smirk on his face as he met ruby red eyes.

Al just chuckled darkly in reply to the statement.

He was a man of few words, Alfred and he knew, it was ironic he even bothered to ask.

But, contrary to either of their beliefs, Al did in fact have a few words he needed the "Hero" to know.

"For starters, you'll never really be the Hero, Porkchop." The American smirked darkly, his eyes flickering with mischief. Detonation. But never annoyance, or hatred, for his goody-two-shoes form. "Never," he repeated, his voice slightly raspy. "Because I'm still a part of ya, I'm still there, and ya can't ever really destroy me, can ya~?" He chuckled more mockingly than teasingly. "I'll always be a part of ya. Racism, sexism, conflicts between what you believe, that's all me."

He flashed a lazy signature smirk. "So go ahead. You can shoot me, Porkchop. Ain't as if I'll ever really die."

A small shiver could be seen on Alfred. "I... I can get rid of you! Because I'm the hero. You aren't me. I will never be you. I am Alfred F. Jones and you are just my counterpart. A counterpart that needs to be destroyed." He looked away. "For the greater good," the pale American mumbled.

"Al... Why? Why and how did you split from me? Because the only other country that has more than one representative is Italy and they get along. Why are we different? Why did you do all those terrible things? Why did you go to Iggy for help?" Alfred's gun trembled slightly in his hands. "Why?"

Al just looked away. He absolutely hated feelings, so even the slightest amount of guilt hurt him. He wasn't used to feeling anything.

Not empathy, let alone sympathy, and now he felt the tiniest bit of both.

"Because I'm the villain," he decided to reply, in order to bury the truth. "'Nd in that case, my job is to bring you down. 'Nd cause I'll never die, it'll always be my job."

He chortled dully. "'Sides, Porkchop, think about it. Nobody is completely good, all the way around. Everybody's got evil in 'em. Maybe it takes its form as hate, maybe thoughts of revenge upon somebody, everybody's got dirt in their minds and everybody's a sinner. And most of the time they're like you: in denial."

His red eyes flickered again.

"Ain't possible to be all good. But it's way easier, and very possible, to be all bad.

Ever noticed that~?"

Alfred sighed. "So you pick the easy road? You don't try to take the hard path, even though it is more fulfilling." He shook his head, somewhat disappointed in his counterpart, and technically with himself.

"I know now that killing you won't get rid of anything. But I have to try. To let America prosper. Because I'm not a villain," he explained.

"I'm not you," Alfred added, his voice catching slightly.

Al huffed darkly. "Fulfilling, huh~? It ain't always best, you know, to be the good guy."

He walked right up to Alfred, taking hold of his gun and pressing it to his chest.

"If you're so good 'nd heroic, then shoot. And the instant ya do, the dirt'll be on your hands, and all that big talk 'bout heroism will be completely ruined.

But hey, at least you're doin' what's more fufillin' and good for your country.

Ain'tcha~?" He snickered.

"Shoot, then. Do what's right."

Alfred stared into the red eyes of the man he so wanted gone. But he didn't hate him. He pitied him. "Al... I don't want to do this, but I have no choice. I really wish things were different, but they aren't."

He closed his eyes, his pointer finger on the trigger.

There was the loud sound of the fired gun.

Al gritted his teeth as he felt the silver bullet pierce through his flesh, burst his heart open, and shoot out of his back.

The feeling of complete agony sunk in instantly, and blood began to pour from his dirtied lips as a sign of it.

A dark shade of red to match his ruby eyes painted the gray coat.

"Well, well, Porkchop," Al muttered, his white teeth now red.

"We ain't so different, after all."

With the final choked up words, the man fell, with a thud, onto the ground.

Blood stained the leaves around him.

Red, red was everywhere now.

Red to mix in with the dark of grays that so clearly screamed irony.

Ironic enough, too, that neither man could die, and neither man ever could.

But that day, he sat lifeless on the ground, his birth and mission not on stop- but rather, on pause.


	2. Chapter 1

**Warning: This chapter has a scene where two nations shower together and flirt a bit; however, no graphic explanation is used.**

_Hetalia, the characters, and the plot of Hetalia does not belong to me._

* * *

It was another one of those mornings. A day or two before a world meeting and Alfred had invited a certain Frenchman to spend the night.

That was their routine. To sleep together and pretend they were both okay. But they weren't. Yet, somehow, when they held one another they were almost there.

Alfred turned to the other, kissing his nose. "Morning," he said, a small smile on his face. "I call dibs on showering first."

This certain Frenchman- we'll call him Francis- had held the American, all night. He had wrapped him up in warm, comforting arms. And he'd kissed him much more passionately the night before, but at this point he was pretty worn out. He gave him a soft kiss on the lips, smiling. "Good morning, Amérique~ we can share the shower, non~?" he teased, kissing down to his jaw line.

The American blushed, laughing to divert attention from his extremely red cheeks. "Sounds good. I'm going to go brush my teeth and all... And I guess we could shower then. We just better get ready because I think Mattie and the British dude are dropping by soon." He smiled a bit, as Francis kissed up his jaw.

Francis chuckled lightly. "Vhat are they coming for, mon amour~? Do they not know we're busy...?" He sighed, finally giving in and mentally agreeing to go along with the agenda planned for the day. "Vhat are they even coming for..~?"

Alfred shrugged. "Something about the world meeting coming up. I thought you would be glad to see Mattie again..." He hesitated. "And Arti-Arthur is coming by to spend family time or maybe because he just wants to. I have no clue," Alfred added, frowning slightly at the thought of having to face Arthur again. They were too complicated to understand.

Francis seemed to pout slightly, a tinge of jealousy in his dark blue eyes. It was something no one normally got to see, but he'd always been iffy about Arthur and Alfred. He sighed softly, it wasn't only romantic jealousy-_ he'd_ wanted to father the boy at the time of his youth; yet, he'd chosen Arthur over him. Perhaps the Frenchman was just nervous he'd do it again. It was such a bothersome thought.

"I'm very happy to see mon Canada again, but..." he shrugged. "I don't seem to be in ze mood to do anything at all... I'll snap out of it, Amérique." He sat up, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Are you sure? All I know is that Mattie looks forward to the times where we are a real family together because no one else will give him the time of day." Alfred leaned over and held Francis's hand.

Francis welcomingly intertwined their fingers. "Oui, I'm sure. I miss him." He smiled weakly, leaning over yet again to plant a soft kiss on his neck. Their cycle was like a dream, in a way. Francis really didn't mind the whole 'friends with benefits act'- after all, it wasn't as if either of them had anybody else, let alone truly cared romantically for one another- right? It was just something they both needed.

"I'll be right back," Alfred told him, kissing his cheek and getting up. "Get ready for a great shower." The American walked towards his bathroom, picking up his toothbrush and squirting some toothpaste on it. He began to brush his teeth when suddenly; a huge pain went through his head. He cringed, bringing a hand up to his hair and sighing.

_Must be a stress migraine._

Francis blushed and chuckled softly at the words, staying in the bed, maybe planning on catching a few more minutes of shut-eye.

Alfred sighed, shaking his head. Just a migraine. Nothing else. He couldn't help but think about the last time he had a migraine this bad. When Al- No. He didn't need to remember that. Al was gone. Gone for good. Good had won.

Francis eventually fallen back asleep, waiting for Alfred to come get him so they could shower.

Alfred shook his head. Better go get Francis. He walked back to the other, kissing his neck lightly. "Francey?"

Francis blushed lightly, peeling one eye open. He gave him a blank expression before surprise grabbing his wrists and pulling him on top of his chest. "Oui, mon amour~?"

"It's time to shower," Alfred replied, looking into his friend's deep blue eyes. "We have about an hour until they get here."

Francis sighed and grinned. "Alright, alright." He sat up, looking back down into cerulean orbs with slight longing. He stood, yawning slightly, and wrapping an arm around Alfred's waist. The Frenchman was already unclothed.

Alfred smiled. "Then we can go grab some great breakfast," he said, but then cringed slightly as his head pounded. However, he replaced his pained glance with a smile. He didn't want to scare the Frenchman.

"That sounds lovely~ are you doing okay...?" He glanced down at the American man.

Alfred nodded, a faux smile plastered on his face. "Of course I'm okay. I'm the hero and the hero is always okay." He leaned into the shower, turning the water on and taking out two towels, one with each of their flags. From the top of the cabinet, the Union Jack and Canadian flag could be seen.

Francis chuckled softly, slipping into the warm water.

It was like rain.

He leaned against the tile wall, letting the steam fill his pores and make him even sleepier.

Alfred stepped in after him, letting the water run through his hair, which went completely flat except for Nantucket.

Francis watched as Alfred made his way in. He smiled slightly. "Want me to help you wash, amour~?" he teased.

Alfred's cheeks turned extremely red, however he quickly replied, "If you'll let me help you after." He wasn't too good at all this flirting, but watching Francis certainly helped.

Francis smiled a bit wider and he grabbed some sort of American body wash, squirting it into his palm. He gently rubbed at his own temporary American lover, smearing the soap on him playfully. "So, are you really alright, /Hero/~? You seem a bit... erm, preoccupied."

Alfred beamed, happy that the Frenchie called him Hero. However, his smile fell, as his head seemed to have another spasm. "I'm fine," he lied.

"…If you say so," he chuckled lightly. He lightly massaged the American's shoulders from behind as he leaned in to kiss his ear. Alfred turned to stop Francis from kissing his ear and instead kissed his lover's lips, wrapping his fingers in the long blonde hair. Francis kissed gently back, moving forward a bit to wrap his arm around the younger nations neck and lay the other on his waist. Alfred smiled, pulling Francis's hand around him more rightly. He didn't like to be alone, so the closeness put him at some ease, despite his headache. Francis deepened the kiss slightly, always up for any signs of affection. Aside of women on the street he barely got any; and he rarely experienced it at a caring closeness like he and Alfred would share. Alfred pulled Francis closer to him, careful to make sure they didn't fall. The hero could feel the light water on his back, but he was to busy enjoying Francis to really remember they were in the shower. Francis and Alfred stayed there for a while. The water washed over them gently as Francis ran his hands over the Americans body, pulling him closer.

"Francis?" Alfred said softly, looking at his partner.

"Vhat is it, mon cher?" He smiled gently down at him.

"Sometimes I'm afraid you're going to leave me. Or find someone else," Alfred mumbled, his cheeks a rosy red.

Francis blinked, a bit curious about the sudden remark. He just smiled slightly. "Vhy would you worry about such a zhing~? I'm not going anywhere."

Alfred shrugged. "I'm nothing special. You could be with anyone. All of your former colonies love you. Why me? I'm just the nuisance bad guy who annoys everyone."

Francis smiled a bit. "My former colonies seem too much like siblings, for one zhing. For another, you are unique and I enjoy zhat about you. You're interesting to be around, Amérique~"

"Really?" the American perked up. "Because I've... been thinking about the past lately and it started to get to me."

Francis was a bit startled. "Zhe past, mon Cher... why?"

"I don't know... I just reflected on mistakes. I thought about my wars mostly," Alfred replied, regretting he said anything.

The Frenchman just grinned. "Wars?! Don't worry, the past is the past. It'll be over, soon; is that why you have been acting strange?"

"A little I guess. I... have been having nightmares about something A- Confederacy said," Alfred explained.

Francis blinked, concerned, and held his face. "We can talk about it, if you'd like...?"

"Could we?" Alfred asked, wanting to get it off his chest.

"I wouldn't mind at all, Amérique. If you'd like we can get out and sit on zhe bed?"

"That works." He ran his hand through his wet hair. "We could finish our shower..."

Francis chuckled and slipped his arms around Alfred's body. "You're really too cute... sure." he kissed his forehead again before grabbing a bar of soap to finish things.

Alfred grabbed some conditioner. "Can I do your hair?"

"Oui, I don't see vhy not!"

He nodded, opening the bottle and squirting the conditioner onto his hands. Alfred proceeded to rub it on the Frenchie's head.

Francis just giggled as the soap filled his blonde hair. He grinned down at Alfred. "Having fun~?"

"Your hair is soft. I like it," Alfred told him, twirling some of Francis' s blonde locks.

Francis smiled softly. "Do you~? I'm glad!" He closed his eyes, allowing the American to massage his scalp.

Alfred saw a little swirl in Francis's hair. Why wouldn't it flatten like everything else? It couldn't be... he tugged at it with his fingers.

Francis' eyes widened and his face reddened slightly. "E-Ehh... Amérique, do you mind...~?" he bit his own lip gently.

"Could this be, Francey?" Alfred teased, pulling at it once more.

Francis let out a small whine of pleasure, the red spreading further. "Hey, who said you could have all zhe fun." he brushed his fingers through the American's hair, making sure to press down on Nantucket.

Alfred moaned, then blushed red from embarrassment. "Francis!" He pulled harder on the other man's curl.

Francis smirked as he moaned back. "That was too cute..~" he murmured, twirling the hair tuft around his finger.

Alfred looked at Francis with wide eyes. "D-don't-..."

Francis grinned evilly. "Or vhat, Amérique~?" he teased lightly, holding the small bit of hair.

"O- o- or... This!" Alfred yanked on the other's curl, rubbing it between his fingers.

Francis blushed a full red, holding in the moans that wanted to escape his lips. "Y-you're asking for it now..." he tugged and pinched Nantucket with both of his eyes closed, as if it was helping him cover up the small noises of pleasure.

A loud series of moans and whimpers escaped Alfred. "Y-you Frenchies-" His body shivered under his lover's touch, but he managed to pinch the other curl.

Francis finally gave in, moaning softly as he half-fought, half-teased his partner. He tried yanking away but it only tugged his curl harder. "Nhh.." he groaned softly as his face heated.

"N - now you see how it feels!" Alfred teased, rubbing the curl between his fingers.

Francis yanked a bit harder, all the while running his hand down Alfred's waist and slightly groping him. He smirked softly at the American. "I don't think I mind it as much~"

Alfred smiled in pleasure, watching Francis. "Do you have any clue what you do to me?"

The Frenchman blinked in confusion, till he finally just brightly chortled. "Obviously not my intentions~!"

"Obviously? I think you know and you like how you make me feel," Alfred retorted.

Francis' blush had calmed, but he could feel the color slightly return. "...You think so, hmm..~?"

"Of course I do. Why else would you act the way you do. I like it though, just like I like you," Alfred told him.

"...I like you too," he murmured, smiling brightly. That was a thing, too. It was never "I love you" and it never would be because that wasn't how the system worked.

You had to be attracted to and like your partner, sure, but in their situation it wasn't love. God forbid you cared any more than physical attraction, unless you enjoyed their company.

But love wasn't an option.


	3. Chapter 2

Francis made his way from the bathroom to Alfred's room, sitting down on his bed with a light creak. "So... tell me how you're feeling, then, because you've been making me nervous with your actions.."

"How I'm feeling?" Alfred responded, somewhat in his own la la land. "How am I supposed to feel? A part of me... an evil part... ripped away from my being and nearly killed me. Then he becomes all-wise and tells me that I'm not the perfect hero and I'm a bad person and asks me to shoot him. How do you think that makes me feel?"

"...Insane, the Frenchman finally decided. "But, why now? So suddenly you're remembering? I mean, zhat was years and years ago..."

"I... I've been having migraines again. Like the ones I got when he was first coming into play and it scares me. He told me he would be back and..." Alfred trailed off, flopping back onto the bed.

Francis sighed softly. "And you're worried zhat he is going to return and...?"

"Return... I don't know. Maybe cause another Civil War. Maybe hurt people I care about," Alfred trailed off, lowering his voice to mumble, "Maybe replace me."

"Amérique," the Frenchman mumbled, sternly. He gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "You_ are_ the Hero, non? He's not coming back and he's not going to replace you, ever. The headache strength is probably just your imagination..."

The American frowned. "Of course I'm the hero, but Francis you didn't see him that day. You didn't see his determination. And why would I imagine that? As you said... it's been years. You must admit this is strange."

"Strange, yes," Francis hesitantly agreed. "But do not go over thinking things."

Alfred shrugged. "Whatever you say Franceypants." He pulled Francis down next to him on the bed. Francis sighed softly and smiled over at him, wrapping his arms around his neck.

It was around that moment they heard a knock.

"I've got it..." Alfred got out of bed, giving his lover a kiss on the cheek and heading to the door. He opened it to see the British dude and his brother.

"Hi Alfred, it's, uhm, nice to see you again," Matthew said softly. "Is mon papa here?"

Alfred nodded slowly. "Uhm, yes. Francis! Mattie and Iggy are here," he called out.

Arthur stood in the doorway beside the Canadian, a blank but stern expression on his face. "Hello, Alfred," he sighed out, watching as Francis made his way to the door.

"Bonjour, mi amis!" Francis said with a bright expression to the Englishman.

"I'm not your friend, Frog," Arthur retorted, shooting the other man an annoyed glance.

The Frenchman completely blew him off and grinned at his son. "Hello, mon Canada~" he sang lightly, using Matthew's nation name.

Alfred nearly jumped in the Brit's arms. "Iggy, I missed you!" He laughed, poking the Brit's cheek.

Arthur blushed lightly, surprised by the sudden action, and groaned a bit. "G-great," he murmured, not adding that he missed him too. It took everything to kill the smile that he wanted to flash.

Alfred's smile faltered for a moment. "Ah... yeah. It's great you are dropping by. I like company."

Arthur looked away. "W-well, you know. Matthew was coming by to visit and so I thought I might say hi.." he finally relaxed into the hug, even slightly retuned it.

Alfred grinned. "Of course! We do have that super important world meeting in New York." He was beyond excited to have all the countries visit his home.

Arthur nodded. "Just two more and it's in London," he teased pridefully, a small smug smirk coming over his lips.

Alfred replied, "London is really cool. It'll be fun! I just can't wait for everyone to explore New York, though."

Arthur chuckled, loosening up." I suppose this is a beautiful city. People say it's the best in the world, so I'll give you that.."

"You really think so, Iggy?" Alfred asked hopefully.

"..Sure, git," Arthur mumbled back, looking away from the American's youthful blue eyes. "You can let me go now."

"Oh... sorry, Iggy," Alfred mumbled, looking like a dog that got hit for misbehavior.

Arthur frowned slightly at his upset expression and groaned loudly, hugging him tighter. "Cut out that face, will you?"

Alfred looked down at Iggy, his eyes hopeful. "What face?"

"You look so damn sad," the Englishman growled. "You never do so cut it out.."

"Sad? I'm sad whenever I'm not with you, Iggybrows!" Alfred teased.

Arthur glared and pulled away, sighing slightly. "Don't call me that, you git."

"You make me happy," Alfred announced, glomping the Brit affectionately.

Arthur blushed lightly and pushed him a bit. "Th-that's great, Alfred.."

"Oh come on, Iggy! Why can't you ever just be affectionate?" Alfred asked.

"...I don't see a reason to be," the Englishman finally answered. "I never am, I expected you to be used to that by now..."

"Oh, but Ig! You can change. You were affectionate when I was little," Alfred said with a pout.

Arthur knitted his eyebrows and groaned slightly. "Lets not bring up the past..."

"You used to be nice. Why can't I get caring you again?" Alfred asked.

Arthur gritted his teeth. "Can we please just drop it?!"

Alfred looked regretful. "Um... yes, of course. I made you some tea. Your usual. And I tried to make scones the other day..."

Arthur's jadeite eyes widened. "H-huh? You.. made scones...?"

Alfred nodded. "I tried anyway."

Arthur blinked. "Did you save any..?"

"Course I did! I made them for you," Alfred announced. "Follow me to the kitchen." Arthur nodded and followed him eagerly. Alfred pulled out a tray of scones from his fridge, handing them to Arthur. He moved to make an Earl Gray. "Do you still like these?"

Arthur looked at the tea packs and slowly nodded. "Yes... you... you remembered."

Alfred nodded. "I... always have them in case you drop by."

Arthur wanted to say something shitty, like "why would I ever come by? Bloody twat." But rather than being his usual grumpy, asshole self, he just sighed. "That's very sweet, Alfred."

"R-really? I... didn't think you would, but I figured just in case you did because I know you liked it and," he babbled. "You don't care about that," Alfred mumbled, making the Earl Gray and passing it to the Brit.

Arthur smiled slightly. "...Tell me more," he murmured, taking a seat.

"Tell you... more?" Alfred asked in confusion. Since when did the Brit actually care?

Arthur nodded slowly. "You were telling me about how you knew I liked this type, and everything? I'm your guest, at least talk to me." He flashed a small smile.

Alfred nodded, a big smile on his face. "Well, I always make sure I have some because some guest of mine might like it. And I know you love the stuff. I have to admit, it isn't so bad, but I still prefer Dr. Pepper."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "That stuff is so sugar-filled and fattening. But... you really like tea?" He blinked, then smiled a little.

Alfred laughed. "But Dr. Pepper tastes good! And uhm... yeah. It tastes pretty good."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "It might be... and I'm glad then! Tea is way better for you, you know," he informed him.

"Yeah, I know tea is better. I like mango tea. That is pretty good... what's been going on with you, though?" Alfred asked, smiling affectionately at the Brit.

Arthur sighed slightly. "Nothing, really. You know. Trying to keep the country in order, trying to keep the /other/ countries in order, Peter is getting in my face.." he trails off, shrugging slightly. "The usual things."

Alfred smiled. "Peter is adorable. A sweet kid and all. How are your brothers?" The conversation was friendly and Alfred was pleased about that.

"Can we not talk about them right now? They give me a headache," he groaned, just as the Canadian walked in followed by Francis. "Hello, Matthew. Frog."


End file.
